


The Plunge

by semnai



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Cuddling, Fluff, M/M, Nightmares, h/c, mental bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-26
Updated: 2013-07-26
Packaged: 2017-12-21 09:04:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/898446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/semnai/pseuds/semnai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Newt faces the consequences of his two Drift experiences.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Plunge

Three beers in, Newt can definitively say that the alcohol is not helping with the thoughts swirling around in his mind. If anything, it is amplifying the affects. He inwardly groans, and screws his eyes shut as if that would help clear his mind. His glasses had slid down his nose, and he quickly pushes them up before grabbing the bar of a railing in front of him and pulling himself upright. He had been sitting with his legs dangling off the side, observing the festivities around him. One beer ago he had been partaking in the celebrations with everyone but he had finally decided he had enough.

It doesn’t feel like himself to be leaving this early from any party, but the day had taken its toll on him, and he feels the exhaustion tugging at his limbs. He shuffles out of the large hanger where everyone else was celebrating, to head back to his room for the night, stumbling over his own feet more than once.

A wave of dizziness overcomes him as he is walking past the cafeteria, and he nearly falls against a wall for support. There was a reason the Jaeger program didn’t use the old Mach 1 Drift equipment anymore that he had commandeered from a storage closet and fixed up. Pilots had experienced neural overload for hours and days even after only one Drift. And he had experienced two within a very short amount of time.

It had been necessary though and Newt doesn’t regret a second of it. Still, it isn’t much fun fighting the side-effects. Nausea, bloody noses, dizziness and then his favorite side-effect of all: thoughts that he is pretty sure aren’t his own. In his current inebriated state, it is more difficult to tell what feelings and thoughts are actually his. As he takes a deep breath, and pushes himself off the wall to continue to his room, he laughs. It appears he and Hermann had a lot more in common than even he had thought. He had always teased Hermann about how as they were the two most senior scientists on the Jaeger program, they must have so much in common. Hermann would always retort that what Newt did could hardly be considered science, so therefore any similarities would be purely conjecture and hardly substantiated by any actual resemblance between the two. Newt would laugh it off, punching his shoulder and informing him that he shouldn’t protest so much if that’s the case.

Lucky for Newt, even Hermann couldn’t argue against that now that they were both painfully aware that they were Drift compatible.  The thought of it brings a warm feeling bubbling up in his chest, though that could just be the alcohol, he reasons.

Finally, he reaches his room, fumbling for his key. Before he opens the door though, his eyes drift over to the left, where Hermann’s room is. He hadn’t seen him all night. He had been a bit worse for wear after the neural handshake than Newt had been but had assured him he was all right before hobbling off after the success of the mission. Newt had just let him go, figuring he needed some time alone after what they had both gone through.

Once in his room, Newt practically falls onto his bed, grasping at his pillow and pulling it tight to his chest. He breaths in the scent deeply, and can feel himself relax for the first time in as long as he could remember. He had done it, they had done it. They are safe.

Consciousness melts away, and a weightlessness finds his limbs as he can feel himself floating, fading through nothing.

He sees himself at his lab bench, hunched over as he meticulously dissects a Kaiju eye. His hair is mussed and eyes scrunched in concentration, and a warm haze settles over the scene.

The vision melts away, and is replaced by an image of his father. Slight confusion hazes through Newt’s mind as he knows his father is dead, but as his father smiles, it is forgotten. He wants to tell his father about what had happened, what he did, but as quick as it appeared, it fades away.

He can see three boys in a sandbox, one of which was sitting off to the side, playing on his own. He can feel longing as he merges with the one boy playing alone. Longing to be with the other boys and playing alongside them, to be accepted as a friend, and not always forgotten.

Darkness soon dissolves that dream, but not for long. Newt finds himself again in the bunker in Hong Kong, his heart pounding furiously and as loud it seems as the Kaiju that’s clawing at the concrete and pavement above him to reach him. He feels hopeless, trapped, alone. Everyone around him has pressed against the walls and disappeared, abandoned him. He stands alone in the center of the room as the Kaiju’s head descends from the ceiling, its eye fixed on him and in that moment, he wants to tear the tattoos from his arms and chest, he wants to forget these monsters ever existed, and his mind is totally consumed with terror. He wanted to see one alive and he got his wish. Too bad it is going to be the last thing he ever gets out of this life. 

He opens his mouth to scream and he can feel the creature’s tongue paralyzing him, its teeth on his flesh, and Newt jolts awake to find a hand on his shoulder shaking him.

Newt scrambles away from the arm before looking up to see who it belongs to. Hermann is there, in his room, standing over him with both hands grasping his shoulders. Newt shudders and the hands pull away. He looks down to see his covers twisted around him and the pillow he had been holding thrown against the wall.

“Are—are you—“ Hermann swallows, and takes a deep breath, already looking incredulous that he’s even here. “Are you feeling all right?”

Newt shudders out a laugh, placing a hand on his forehead where he can feel the heat and the sweat there. “Yeah, I’m fantastic.” He takes a deep breath as well, locking eyes with Hermann. “Great to see you though,” he says in a softer tone.

Hermann looks taken aback, and his eyes widen with surprise. “Well, yeah, I hadn’t seen you since earlier, and you know, wanted to check up with you.” He looks around Newt’s messy room, observing everything but its inhabitant.

“Hermann,” Newt says, and Hermann’s eyes snap back to his face.  “How did you know…” Newt gestures to himself. “You know, the nightmare. You must have known.”

Hermann’s hand which isn’t back to clutching his cane, moves to the back of his neck, and he looks uncomfortable.

“Felt it,” he mutters finally.

“You’ve been feeling it too?”

“What? You in my head? I can’t get rid of it.” Hermann says irately. “The wonderful, constant buzzing of your—“ He lets out a sound of frustration. “Cognitive processes. Or what have you. It’s severely disruptive.”

But Hermann’s tone isn’t as cross as he usually gets on matters that annoy him, and he’s still hovering very close to Newt’s bed.

Newt doesn’t need their current mental link to know Hermann is worried about him.

“Did that really occur?” Hermann asks in a quieter tone, after several moments.

Newt screws up his face in thought. “Did what really--?”

“That Kaiju, breaking through the shelter,” Hermann interrupts harshly. “I told you that mental link with the Kaiju was an absolutely atrocious idea, and look where it brought you, almost getting yourself eaten by one of your precious monsters, and I wouldn’t have even- I wouldn’t have-“ Hermann breaks off suddenly, his voice transitioned from a reprimanding tone to one filled with emotion.

“Wouldn’t have what?” Newt asks softly.

Hermann shakes his head. “Nothing,” a resemblance of his normal voice back. He sighs, and to Newt’s astonishment, he turns around and sits on the edge of Newt’s bed.

He can likewise feel the buzz of thoughts going through Hermann’s head, amplified from this close proximity. He can feel the worry, the anger at himself for almost losing him, and through it all, a steady undercurrent of concern, shared by both.

The recent nightmare, the stream of memories, and the rush of emotions from the man next to him suddenly peaks, cresting over Newt’s mind through a wave of dizziness. The world spins around him, and he barely registers the pain of Hermann’s hands tightly grasping at his shoulders’ again. He can hear everything and nothing, and his thoughts and vision blur. 

After what could have been several moments or nearly an hour, something breaks through the haze, the sound of his own voice. He uses it as an anchor to pull him from the abyss that he nearly fell into. When his vision swims into focus, all he sees is Hermann’s face in front of him, his eyes wide with fear.

“Newton, Newton, look at me, look at me at this instant Newton, Newton,” he can hear Hermann muttering in a rush, repeating his name like a mantra. He can feel Hermann’s hands cradling his face, his fingers threading through his hair.

Newt cracks a smile, leaning into the hands without even meaning to. His hands are soft with chalk dust and it speaks of comfort to his abused and tired mind.

“Can you hear me Newton? Newton!” Newt can feel the panic in Hermann’s thoughts, and his eyes blink open.

“I’m perfectly fine, don’t worry.”

Hermann’s brow scrunches and he bites back a retort, settling to just shake his head, sighing impatiently at Newt’s obvious denial.

He realizes all of a sudden that his hands are still on Newt’s face, and pulls them quickly away. For several quiet minutes, they sit there, on Newt’s bed, neither knowing what to say to each other, but the thoughts swirling between each other say enough.

Using his cane as a brace, Hermann quickly stands up, giving an apologetic smile. “Well this was amusing, but I really have to get to bed, we have a long day tomorrow packing and, well, I like to be up early for a day of difficult work, so—“

“Don’t go,” Newt says quickly, the words slipping off his tongue before he even knew he was going to say it.

A genuine shocked expression is apparent across Hermann’s face, and Newt almost wants to gloat that he put it there, but he really rather not get him riled up right now.

Hermann swallows, his hand nervously clenching his cane, looking like a man on the edge of a precipice about to take a plunge.

“Okay,” he says finally, sitting back down on Newt’s bed.

Newt gives him a tentative smile, and Hermann returns it, their eyes meeting and saying more than words could ever manage. Verbal communication had never been either of their strengths.

Newt shifts over to a side of the small bed, and looks appealingly back at Hermann. Hermann sighs once again, as if he’s only doing this for Newt’s benefit, and places his cane against the dresser. He swings his legs onto the bed and stiffly lays down next to Newt. Smiling, Newt turns to his side and clutches Hermann like the pillow he had been holding earlier, one arm wrapped around his waist, and another slipping under his head. He leans his forehead on Hermann’s shoulder, taking a deep breath, finally feeling relaxed for the first time in what felt like days.  He can practically see Hermann rolling his eyes in exasperation.

“We shared thoughts, dude,” Newt counters, not even looking up at him. “We still are. Drift compatible remember? I think this is hardly even comparable.”

As he’s drifting off, he can feel Hermann shifting next to him, and briefly feels, almost like a dream, but a good one this time, soft lips pressing lightly to his, and a hand on his waist.


End file.
